


Trial and Error

by TheDancingCrow



Series: The Viper's Scheme [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Backstory, Collars, Demons, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fantasy, Food Issues, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Magic-Users, Non-Consensual Kissing, Original Slash, Past Abuse, Power Imbalance, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, Submission, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-16 03:53:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8086057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDancingCrow/pseuds/TheDancingCrow
Summary: A few months before Anereth is due to start attending school in the capital, he receives an unexpected birthday present in the form of a personal slave. And it's not that he doesn't see the advantages of having one, but he has books to read and spells to study, and there's just not a lot of time to concern himself with strangely unenthusiastic bed slaves.Unfortunately, said bed slave does not do well being ignored, or being touched, or being a bed slave at all. And Anereth quickly realizes he will have to do something about that, because while he's not sure how to feel about having to deal with a personal slave, he knows he doesn't want to have to deal with a dead one.(Backstory; could also be read on its own)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> And finally here comes some backstory for Anereth and his first slave, Kyenne. As mentioned in the summary, it should make sense on its own, but a main story exists and there might be spoilers.
> 
> The second part of this is already written and only in need of some more editing. It's going to be about 1.7k words.
> 
> This takes place many years before the main story - Anereth and Sylves don't even run in the same social circles yet, and Anereth is a little. Well. Let's say he doesn't exactly have a reputation for being charming at this point, ha.
> 
> Enjoy!

The slave was kneeling on the ground, his forehead pressed to the dark gray carpet. He had short black hair and smooth skin paler than was common this close to the border to Halethion, and didn't move a single muscle even as Anereth circled him. If the scrutiny or circumstances made him nervous, he showed no sign of it.

The demon was clearly dressed for the occasion: fine cream silk that didn't cover his arms nor most of his legs, and a simple green hair pin in the shape of a leaf. Beautiful, but not excessive.

Finally, Anereth stopped in front of him. He couldn't say he had wanted a slave for a birthday gift, but since his mother hadn't bothered asking, there was no reason not to make the best of it. 

“Raise your head,” he said.

The slave did, sitting up with the easy grace all demons seemed to possess in a motion that was quick, but not hurried. He lifted his face, but kept his eyes directed downwards.

He was pretty. Anereth had expected that, but it still felt odd. He usually just saw bed slaves from afar – his mother and older sister both had personal slaves, but none of them had been selected primarily for looks. 

This slave was different. He had a fine-boned face and large brown eyes rimmed with kohl, and even without the glossy red dye adorning his lips, it wouldn't have been difficult for Anereth to imagine himself kissing them.

He looked some years older than Anereth, and he might have guessed him nineteen or twenty at the very most; but he was a demon, so there was really no way to be sure.

“What's your name?”

“Kyenne, master.” The slave's voice was soft, though a little deeper than Anereth had expected. “If it pleases you.”

“Kyenne,” he repeated. It wasn't a name he'd heard before, but then, he didn't spend too much time talking to demons. 

He'd never really had the interest to. They were just _there_ , meek and quiet like mice. The books said they were powerful, without the collars, even with them could still be dangerous when not handled correctly. Anereth had studied, though, how the Timnestra collars worked, and how often they failed, which was hardly ever. And he had rarely met a slave who dared to look him in the eye for longer than three seconds. His little sister seemed more dangerous to him.

It wasn't like he didn't want to know about demons. They were beings of magic, after all, and there was nothing Anereth enjoyed more than studying magic. There were still so many spells to learn, though, so many theories to read up on and explore. Why waste time on slaves when they seemed to be to uncollared demons what a declawed cat was to a lion?

Here he had one, though, and he would have to deal with him, no matter how interesting he would or wouldn't turn out to be.

Well. At least he was pretty, and there were things he wondered about demons that didn't have all that much to do with their magical abilities.

He crouched down and tilted up Kyenne's chin. The demon smelled of flowers and oranges – not a perfume, Anereth was fairly sure, so probably a skin lotion, or a very fragrant bath oil.

He couldn't imagine sleeping with a demon, with someone incapable of even holding his gaze. There was no need to go that far, though.

He pressed his lips to Kyenne's. It was about all he did, barely even moving, certainly not pushing, wanting to see what the demon would do more than anything. Would he simply yield? Finally betray nervousness? Would he immediately, helplessly melt into the kiss as was said to be a demon's natural instinct, even when they'd barely exchanged ten words yet?

Anereth didn't do _much_ , but it was enough.

Kyenne's breath hitched, and he went stiff against him. It wasn't the reaction Anereth had been expecting, though he couldn't say he'd anticipated anything concrete.

Then Kyenne seemed to catch himself, and for a second he reciprocated; but the moment Anereth made to intensify the kiss, the tiniest forward motion, the demon once again went rigid, seeming to fight a battle within himself. 

Anereth moved back, and immediately Kyenne's head jerked sideways, away from him.

“Are you _trained_ as a bed slave?” Anereth asked.

The demon curled his fingers into his palms. “I'm sorry, master.”

“I didn't ask if you're _sorry_ ,” Anereth said. 

A cringe, this time. “Yes, master, I'm trained. It's just-- it's been a while.”

Anereth opened his mouth to reply with something, though he wasn't sure yet what, when there was a knock. “Yes?”

The door opened and a female servant stepped in, bowing. She was young, around his own age, and he didn't remember seeing her before. “The lady asks you to join her in the dining room, my lord.”

Anereth had to wonder what his mother was playing at, giving him a skittish bed slave and then calling him away from his present within the quarter of an hour. Though to be fair, she _had_ told him they would eat apple tarts together as soon as she had time, and as for the demon, there was a good chance he had been perfectly adept at hiding he was spooked right up until Anereth actually kissed him. Besides, some anxiety was to be expected from a personal slave who had just been given to a new owner – perhaps this, too, was normal. Anereth couldn't say he was exactly well-informed on the subject.

“I'll be right there,” Anereth said, and looked back at Kyenne. “Set him up in the slave quarters for now, would you.”

“Of course, my lord,” the servant said, though a slight hesitation before she spoke suggested she was taken aback.

Anereth didn't care. Custom or not, it was his birthday, and he didn't feel like sharing his room with a slave he hadn't asked for.

*

Anereth spent most of the rest of his birthday talking with his mother about his studies and his opinion on the classes in the capital whose material he'd reviewed to get a better impression of what going to school there in a few months would be like, and chatting with Valithia about whatever topics crossed his little sister's mind. His new slave came up a few times, but there wasn't much to say about him except that he appreciated the gift – which he did, if purely because having an attractive personal slave would look good in front of others. People cared about these things in Nuvaria, more than they did back home.

When his birthday was over, Anereth returned his attention to his books, Valithia no longer having the time to drag him away from them now that she had heard her words of revelation and was being tutored in magic in addition to literature and math and history and politics.

He forgot about his slave.

Not about the fact that he _existed_ of course, but it was a faint awareness, a passing thought that entered his mind for a brief moment when he was in the middle of a dry chapter about the structure of the Ivariney, or when he walked by a household slave, or when he was about to fall asleep at night. He knew he couldn't just ignore Kyenne and leave him in the slave quarters infinitely, but there just never seemed to be any urgent need to address the issue.

Until five days after his birthday, the same servant he'd left to get Kyenne settled in the slave quarters came to find him and said, “He's refusing to take food or water, my lord.”

Anereth stared at her. “He's trying to starve himself?”

The servant shuffled her feet. “It looks like it, my lord.”

“Since when?”

“Since the day after your birthday, my lord.”

“And you're telling me _now_?” 

The servant ducked her head, and Anereth realized it was rather rich of him to blame her when he'd not even taken ten minutes out of his day at any point during the week to make sure everything with Kyenne was in order.

“Never mind,” he said. “Take me to him.”

As Anereth followed the servant to the slave quarters, feeling rather off-balance, he tried to figure out what might have happened. He'd heard of slaves denying themselves food and water, knew it was one of the few ways they could take their own lives without the Timnestra collar interfering. He had always thought, though, that it would take brutal abuse to push a demon that far. Their bodies were more resilient than humans', and would not easily expire as the result of a lack of nutrients or hydration. It was something many owners found came in handy when dealing out punishments.

Dying of thirst or hunger was not a quick or pleasant death for humans; for demons, it must be thrice as slow – a prolonged and painful form of torture, and this even if one discounted the methods their masters would employ to foil their plans and discourage them from trying again in the future.

Perhaps Kyenne was just not eating or drinking because he was sick, though Anereth had never seen a demon take ill, and knew that it was rare. Perhaps Anereth had missed something, like a grave injury received from his last owner, though he couldn't imagine his mother would have bought a slave without realizing he was damaged; especially if it was damage of the sort even a demon's formidable healing abilities could do nothing about. 

Maybe Kyenne was just being stubborn and trying to get his way about something. Anereth's books said it was the most likely reason for a demon to act out, and though it seemed to him the literature on demons often oversimplified matters and sometimes didn't make all that much sense at all, he couldn't think of anything that had happened or _could have_ happened in the past few days that would make a slave risk everything in hopes of dying an agonizing death.

If the demon _was_ just making Anereth's life difficult for no good reason, that would make things both less and more complicated. On the one hand, it would just be an inconvenient behavioral problem. On the other hand, it would be the sort of thing usually handled through discipline. What was he supposed to do – beat his slave for _starving_ himself?

It would be easier if Tiliera were here. His older sister had deliberately purchased a slave with behavioral issues from a friend before, and never had any serious problems that Anereth had noticed; and he was fairly certain she had not simply slapped the girl into submission. She could barely bring herself to swat at _flies_.

Anereth realized that perhaps he should have paid more attention.

He supposed if it came down to it, he would have to ask his mother for advice. The thought made him grimace. Probably she would find a way to lecture him in a manner that was actually helpful, but at the same time would make him feel incompetent and like this was _his_ fault.

Which it might be. He hadn't been exactly _kind_ , and at the very least he should have checked on the demon, shouldn't he?

But slaves were so _boring_.

Anereth thought Tiliera would probably call him a brat and mess up his hair if he tried that defense in front of her.

The servant had put Kyenne up in a room by himself, most likely because she expected he would move in with Anereth soon enough, and because putting him with any of the household slaves would have been highly unconventional. The room the servant had picked was plain but neat, and contained a bed as well as a chair and table; fairly comfortable as far as accommodations for slaves went. Anereth dismissed the servant before stepping inside.

Kyenne immediately got up from the bed and knelt in front of it when Anereth entered, head bowed. He looked like the picture of obedience.

“Why haven't you been eating and drinking?” Anereth asked without preamble.

The slave didn't move or answer.

“Look at me,” Anereth snapped.

Kyenne did, sitting up straight and meeting his gaze. His features were calm, almost serene.

A chill ran down Anereth's spine. “Answer my question. Are you trying to die?”

Again Kyenne remained silent.

“I won't let you,” Anereth said coldly. “I will find a slave trainer if I must, and have him force your meals down your throat.”

“You can try.” The slave's voice was soft and didn't waver, despite a faint trembling in his jaw, and if one looked closely also in his hands lying flat against the wooden floor.

Anereth stared at him.

“Just let me die,” the demon said. “Even if you could force me to live, I wouldn't be of any use to you, or anyone else. I would make sure to give you as much grief as I can, no matter the consequences. If you just let me die, I won't be a bother.”

Anereth arched his brows, not sure whether he should be angry or intrigued. “Blackmail?”

The slave's hands flexed. “Just a fact, master.”

Anereth crossed his arms. “Do you know what happens with slaves who are useless to their masters, and anyone their masters might want to sell them to?”

Kyenne's lips twisted upwards, a grim half-smile. “They get put down?”

“Aside from that.”

For a moment Kyenne's expression was one of confusion – then his eyes widened, fear visible in them for the first time. “You'd not even get back a quarter of what I cost.”

“It doesn't matter,” Anereth said. “It'd still be more than nothing.”

“I'll be dead before you can find a buyer,” Kyenne countered, but his voice was no longer calm.

“You can try,” Anereth said.

“Please,” Kyenne said, reaching out as if to grab the hem of Anereth's robe, but then immediately aborting the movement. His face was crumpled, and the look in his eyes was one of terror.

If Anereth turned on his heel and left now, and then came back later offering the slave the chance to beg his forgiveness, there was a high probability Kyenne would take it, and swear to do whatever he asked of him in the future without hesitation. He would be that grateful to learn he would not, after all, be handed over to any overambitious scholars as a guinea pig for magical research.

It would be an easy way to come out of this blatant challenge to his authority ahead, and to make it very unlikely there would be similar problems again in the future.

It would feel like a hollow victory.

Anereth crouched down in front of the slave. “Tell me why you want to die all of a sudden.”

Kyenne looked torn between relief and misery. “It's not sudden,” he said, voice just a little shaky. “I thought about--” He swallowed, swiped the back of his hand across his eyes. “I told myself I could do it, but I can't, master. I can't do it again. I don't want to be insolent, I'm sorry I was. Just-- if a demon dies by accident, by law the master may keep the remains, doesn't he? They should be worth nearly as much as if you sold me to--”

“A fifth as much,” Anereth heard himself say, blandly.

He'd seen demons beg their masters for mercy before, and he'd always watched those scenes with distaste. They were shameful displays, revealing the demon's weakness and the owner's incompetence, or otherwise the owner's desire to see someone helpless grovel. Anereth had never witnessed a slave pleading with his master to be allowed to die, though, trying to use the value of his organs as an incentive.

“Please, master,” Kyenne said, growing frantic. “It's not that much you'd be losing, is it, and I was a present, so it would be more convenient than selling me. I would be very grateful, master, and I'll be good. Whatever you want me to do until I die, I will. Please?”

Anereth tried very hard not to look horrified. When he was reasonably sure he was succeeding, he said, “What exactly is it you can't do again?”

The demon made a sound too breathless to be a laugh. “Everything, master. Everything that would make me of use to you. You saw-- I couldn't even kiss you. What's the point of keeping me around?”

“You seem like a terrible bed slave,” Anereth agreed, because it was true. “For a birthday present, anyway. But it's not the kind of problem people usually deal with by putting slaves down. I think most everyone would agree it's fixable with some training.”

Kyenne didn't look at him. “Please don't try,” he said in a small voice.

Anereth regarded the slave. He seemed defenseless and pathetic, like a dog hoping not to be kicked while knowing it was inevitable. Would he really have been able to kill Anereth in the blink of an eye were it not for the collar?

“Fine,” Anereth said. The demon looked at him like he thought he had misheard, or expected the word to be followed by something cruel and damning. “I don't need you to kiss me,” Anereth continued. “I don't need you to be able to do anything but kneel at my feet looking pretty. And follow very simple orders, like not starving yourself.”

Kyenne narrowed his gaze. “I can kneel,” he said cautiously. “I can't lie on my back for you in your bed.”

“I'll have a couch added to my room if you insist,” Anereth said. “I promise you, though, that I can share a bed with someone without getting touchy.”

Kyenne looked at him for a long moment. “I'd prefer the couch,” he said.

Anereth rolled his eyes. “Is that all?”

Another silence. “I don't want your hands on me,” Kyenne said, slowly and clearly. “Or any other human's.”

“I can see it's true that if you give a slave a finger he'll try to take your arm,” Anereth said. “Fine, if it's up to me, no one will touch you. Is your little rebellion over now?”

Kyenne snorted. “You'll sell me within the week.”

“Oh no,” Anereth said. “I was actually bluffing. My mother would have a fit if I sold her gift. Don't tempt me, though.”

“If this is some sort of trick,” Kyenne said, “at least it's original.”

“And here you were, trying to end your life and miss out on the excitement of finding out.” Anereth paused. “For now I can't do more than give you my word it's not, though. Do we have a deal?”

Kyenne held his gaze without blinking for what might have been a full minute. Then he bowed, low and graceful. “Yes, master.”

Anereth thought he heard a hint of strong emotion in the demon's voice, like a suppressed sob. When Kyenne sat back up, though, there was no trace of it, his expression blank and distant.

Anereth told the slave to follow him, and went to arrange for that couch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The other part shouldn't take too long, and maybe Anereth will be less of a brat in it. 
> 
> Anyway, I wrote this months ago and it took me until now to post it, and I would love to hear your thoughts!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeep, thank you for all the nice feedback, it's so awesome to see the comments and kudos and know people are enjoying this!
> 
> Here comes the final and shorter part, which turned out a tiny bit trickier to edit than I saw coming. One day in the probably somewhat far off future I'll also post that other backstory I mentioned before featuring Anereth and Ryminis (which is _slightly_ more light-hearted than this), but yeah, not any time too soon. 
> 
> [Also, sorry I didn't reply to the comments to the new main story chapter yet, they are amazing and made my weekend and I will respond to them as soon as I can! I just had to get this up first because I said I'd post it around the end of the week and that wouldn't really have worked out otherwise.]
> 
> Enjoy!

Kyenne's suspicion of him remained obvious the first week, and was still easy to detect the second if one paid attention. Another seven days, though, and then Anereth only ever caught glimpses of it, brief enough that they could easily have been dismissed as products of his imagination had he been dealing with a slave who had never shown signs of being wary or dissatisfied.

Anereth handled Kyenne's distrust by ignoring it, and by largely ignoring _him_. He made sure the demon ate three meals a day and didn't have too much time to brood by himself, but that was about the extent of his care. He gave him the occasional inconsequential order, had him follow him around most of the day, and sometimes spoke some idle words to him – basically, he treated him much the same he probably would have any other slave, though he kept questions born from scientific curiosity to himself, and didn't touch him.

Thus left alone, Kyenne was unobtrusive and compliant, true to his word never disobeying or making trouble for him, never stepping out of line unless one counted furtive glances and hard stares. Anereth got used to his quiet presence quickly, even as he missed having his room to himself. He liked his space, but Kyenne in it was no more bothersome than a half-wild cat: watching his actions attentively, but keeping to himself and not demanding anything from him but a respect for his most basic boundaries.

Anereth knew technically, Kyenne should not make _any_ demands on him before yielding his obedience, but even a cat or dog was allowed to set some limits for how it would let itself be treated, and Kyenne was neither. And perhaps Kyenne had the potential to be more dangerous, but if hitting a dog for growling could make it more likely to go straight for the throat next time, Anereth didn't see how punishing a _more_ dangerous creature for expressing discomfort or fear was supposed to be the sensible thing to do. He wasn't going to have some dramatic battle for dominance with his slave who'd tried to _kill himself_ when this way, they could both have what they wanted.

Well, it would be strange if he took Kyenne out in public and never touched him, but that was a bridge he would cross when he got there. They might need to re-negotiate, or he might need to leave Kyenne at home, and convince his mother to allow him a second slave if he decided he absolutely wanted one at school with him. Owning two slaves at his age would look like arrogance and bragging, of course, but it wasn't as though anyone needed to know. Either way, Anereth was in no hurry to address Kyenne's aversion to human touch and the complications it brought.

It struck him by surprise, then, when in the fifth week of their truce, Kyenne ended up being the one to broach the subject.

“I said that I didn't want your hands on me.”

“I remember,” Anereth told him, voice not quite a drawl. He didn't glance up from the book on rune magic he had been reading.

“I might have been overstating.”

Anereth did look up, then, and raised his brows.

“It's not that I _don't want your hands on me_ , master.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“My meaning was,” Kyenne said, graciously ignoring the condescending tone, “I don't want your hands on me _in a specific way_.”

“If this is you asking for cuddles, that's a very roundabout way of going about it.”

Kyenne sighed. “Yes, master, I'm asking for cuddles.”

Anereth blinked and lowered his book. “Excuse me?”

“I'm still a demon,” Kyenne began patiently, as if explaining a simple concept to a small child. “Very few of us are good at going without physical contact for long. You're a mage – you should have read about it for your studies, at the very least.”

“I've also read I should whip you for the way you speak to me.”

Kyenne looked unimpressed by his retort, as he had a habit of doing. “Well, there are things your books aren't wrong about,” he said, in a tone that implied that probably it weren't very _many_ things. “And this is one of them. I need physical contact, and as a bed slave, there's a limit to how much time I can spend visiting the slave quarters. So, if you wanted to just touch me...”

“You wouldn't object?” Anereth looked at the demon, curious.

“Just touches,” Kyenne said, quickly. “Not--”

“I got that,” Anereth said, putting the book aside. “All right, come here.”

Kyenne seemed tense as he rose from the couch and made his way over, kneeling down again on the floor in front of Anereth, who moved closer, to the edge of the bed.

He slowly lowered a hand to Kyenne's head. In response, Kyenne went rigid for an instant, before visibly forcing his body to relax. 

“I don't bite,” Anereth said. “And if you change your mind, I'll listen.” He began running his fingers through the demon's hair. “Really, you're so _frightened_.”

“I'm sorry,” Kyenne said quietly, even as he leaned into the contact, and Anereth thought he actually sounded ashamed.

Anereth grimaced. “I wasn't-- _I'm_ sorry, all right?”

Kyenne twisted his head to look at him, clearly baffled. “You're sorry?” A beat's silence, during which Anereth retracted his hand. “What for?”

“Complaining,” Anereth said. He paused. “Kissing you.”

“It was just a kiss, master,” Kyenne said, but there was something sharp in his gaze that belied his words.

“To me,” Anereth said. “Not to you.” He glanced away, just for an instant. “I'll stick to kissing humans in the future.”

Kyenne's eyes narrowed. “Don't make promises you can't keep, master.”

Anereth focused his gaze on the demon again. _I don't_. The words lay at the tip of his tongue. But could he really promise? Did he want to?

In the end, he said, “I thought you wanted me to pet you?”

Kyenne's eyes remained fixed on him a moment longer, then he slowly turned back around, and leaned against the side of the bed.

Anereth resumed raking his fingers through the demon's hair, and bit by bit, the tension seeped out of Kyenne's shoulders, the muscles of his neck. 

For some minutes they were both silent.

“If you meant what you said before,” Kyenne spoke up then, “I would be willing to try sleeping in your bed.”

“You're just going to use me to keep yourself petted and cuddled from now on, aren't you.”

Kyenne hummed. “Maybe. You're not so bad at this.” He shifted, crossing his legs beneath himself. “For a human.”

“I'm sorry I only barely meet your standards.”

“Don't worry,” Kyenne said. “I can train you.” He glanced over his shoulder, then, a little warily. Wondering whether that joke had gone too far.

Anereth looked back at him and snorted. “Oh, why not? It's the next logical step from making deals with slaves to get them to behave, I'm sure.”

Kyenne exhaled softly and gave a tentative grin, before turning from him again. There was a pause. “Do you think,” the demon said at last, “that you will keep me?”

Anereth stopped playing with Kyenne's hair, and rested his hand on the slave's shoulder. “It's not as though selling you is an option.”

“Isn't it?”

“I guess there are ways,” Anereth said. “But any buyer who'd pay more than pittance for you would end up gravely dissatisfied. You're not worth our house's reputation, by far.”

To his surprise, Kyenne chuckled. “What a cruel thing to say. But you're actually _being nice_ , aren't you. Genuinely nice.” Once more he faced Anereth, shaking off the hand on his shoulder in the process and resting his arms to either side of the mage on the bed. “I'd honestly like to try and live up to your expectations. You seem all right, for someone who owns me. But when you inevitably tire of me, or decide just _cuddling_ is not enough – just cut my throat, all right? It will be my fault.”

Anereth stared at the slave. “You're _still_ thinking about dying?” Then he added, “I'm not going to get bored, or angry, and just wash my hands of you.”

“I think you really believe that,” Kyenne said. “And that's sweet, it really is. But, master, I'm a shit bed slave. I'm a shit _anything_ slave. And you're going to go to school in Nuvaria and make friends and you'll see _their_ slaves managing to look like they actually want to be where they are, while I'll probably embarrass you when someone grabs me to get a better look at my face and I freak.”

Kyenne pinned him with his gaze as he continued, “You won't want me then. And that's fine – I'm a lost cause, have been for a while now, really, even if I tried to tell myself differently. And you're a mage from a powerful family who wants a cute fun pet, not the slave version of a charity case. I'm not going to cry over any of this. Just don't get _attached_ , master. Don't get it in your head to fix me, or try to hand me off to someone else because it would be sad to have to put me down. Just keep me like this for as long as you enjoy it, and then end me.”

Anereth's mouth had gone suddenly dry. “Kyenne--”

“ _Promise_.”

Anereth swallowed. He had no plans of killing Kyenne. He also, it now dawned on him, had nothing to say that would convince the demon this was a _good_ thing.

He'd not expected the slave to have such a dismal vision of his future still.

“I promise,” he said, more quietly than he'd intended. “I won't sell you, or try to fix you.”

Kyenne looked at him for a long moment, as if trying to figure out whether he meant it. “Thank you,” he said then. His voice was thick, his head bowed. “Don't forget.”

Gingerly, Anereth reached down to run a hand through the demon's soft dark hair again. “I won't.”

They sat like that for a long while, Kyenne seeming on the verge of crying the whole time, but not shedding a single tear, and Anereth slowly but surely realizing he might be in way over his head.

He'd never wanted a slave for a birthday gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, and finally it's all uploaded.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this bit of backstory, and would love to hear your thoughts!


End file.
